Behind the Mask (House of Lords) by Meg Brooke Page A

right when he had said that his line of work was dangerous, and it did not strike her as the sort of profession one would want one's husband to have. Yet she knew that if he found out what had happened her brother would insist that Lord Pierce offer for her, and then she would have very little say in the matter, for it was two months yet before she achieved her majority on her twenty-first birthday.
    She must put these worries from her mind. Despite what had happened she had every confidence that Lord Pierce would protect them. For now, she must focus her mind on evening entertainments and canapés and floral arrangements and leave the rest to him.
    She rang the bell for Lily.
     
    "I can't quite believe this," Strathmore said flatly as they watched the workmen the village doctor had brought loading the body of John Yates onto the flat donkey cart. The doctor flung a sheet over the body, but it did little to conceal what was beneath.
    John Yates had been brutally tortured before he died. Colin wondered if he had broken when they tore out his fingernails or crushed his hands with a hammer, or if he had managed to hold firm. He did not know enough of the man's character to decide.
    As if thinking the same thing, Strathmore said, "He wouldn't have broken. Not John. Any of the rest of us would have, but not him. He was the bravest of us, you know.”
    “Had you...forgive me, had you known him long?” Colin asked, embarrassed that he did not already know the answer.
    “We met in Algeria,” Strathmore said. “All three of us, Yates, Crawley, and I, coming back from other places. Crawley and I had been in India and Yates in the Sudan. He was single-minded, Yates. When we were in Algeria he thought only of finding the murderers of those French officers. Since then he’s thought only of the Serraray and the White Hand, of how to break them. He would have been prepared for something like this to happen, prepared in ways that we weren’t.”
    For a moment they both stared at the cart with its terrible cargo. Then the village doctor came up. “All ready, My Lord,” he said grimly.
    “Very well,” Colin replied. The doctor climbed up into the carriage and flicked the reins, and the cart began to roll down the road towards the village.
    Colin and Strathmore fell in behind it, hanging back far enough that they could speak without being overheard.
    “Does this mean the Serraray are already here?” Strathmore asked.
    “I don’t know who else would have been capable of something like this, or why anyone else would have done it. Clearly someone wanted whatever information they believed Yates had. Perhaps they even recognized him, though the possibility of that is slim. But whatever the circumstances, I think this incident makes it clear that our targets have arrived. Indeed,” he added, “when I went back to the house, this was waiting. It’s from Crawley.” He took a folded letter from inside his coat and handed it to Strathmore, who opened it.
    “Gorleston magistrate reports newly abandoned boat near docks this morning. Could not have put in before nine o’clock last night,” Strathmore read. “This is dated two days ago. Why did it take so long to get here?”
    “It went to London first, unfortunately. Some mistake, I suppose.”
    "A mistake that cost Yates his life," Strathmore said bitterly.
    "He was dead, or at the very least had already been taken, before we even arrived at Sidney Park," Colin said, though he knew it was of little comfort. "There was nothing more we could have done to help him."
    "Yes, but—" Strathmore began, but then he paused. Colin could tell he had been about to say something regrettable, and his admiration for the young man grew. It was a rare breed of man who could bit back a caustic remark when riding behind his friend's body, and the ability would serve him well. Strathmore appeared to consider what he meant to say another moment. “We must rethink our plan of action,” he said at